


A Luke Crain Original

by dyrimthespeaker



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, Pregnancy, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 10:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17548289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyrimthespeaker/pseuds/dyrimthespeaker
Summary: Luke’s been excited since Nellie found out she was pregnant, flattered when she asked him to paint her nursery. Now if he can just figure out how to do it without screwing up.





	A Luke Crain Original

**Author's Note:**

> What’s this? A new fic two days in a row? AND it's a lighthearted break from my unending dedication to writing sad Luke fic? You better believe it!
> 
> Also all the bad date stories are a combination of actual real bad dates that happened to me, an element from one story I heard on a podcast years ago, and one detail I made up for comedic effect. Unfortunately, you will note that only two of these things have not happened to me personally. Extra unfortunately, this is not a complete list of my bad dates.
> 
> Thanks to Shreya who was, I’m sure, very excited to read something non-angst from me.

Luke tapes another sketch to the wall and sighs. He’s surrounded by them at this point. Papers everywhere, on the walls, on the floor. Sketch after sketch of ideas, but none of them are right. He can’t figure it out. It’s not that he’s lacking in inspiration, the volume of ideas proves otherwise, but none of them are _right_.

When Nellie asked him to paint the nursery he should’ve known he’d manage to turn it into this big weird anxiety perfection problem.

She’d had every confidence in him, saying that he would know what to do. And she was so enthralled at the idea of him designing something for her baby. Designing the room, the decor. The mural that he still had yet to figure out the subject of.

Animals? If so, which? Forest? Ocean? Space? Fantasy? There were so many options, too many options. And nothing he’d come up with so far was perfect.

He sighs and steps back from the wall. He does at least know which wall the mural will be on. The layout’s already planned, where the crib will be, the changing table, the rocking chair. The furniture arrangement and locations of the windows and doors make choosing a mural wall easy. Though, Nellie’s insisted on waiting to order any furniture until after Luke finalizes the design so that’s just another pressure.

Shirley even called him the other day to ask when he might be ready so Nellie can pick a crib and she can buy it as a baby shower gift.

He’d said he was almost done with the design.

He’s not.

He knows he’s holding everyone up and he really can’t stall for long. The baby is coming, there’s a pretty strict deadline they’re working with. But he can’t bear the thought of it being anything less than perfect. It’s Nellie’s baby’s room. It’s the home, the sanctuary of his little unborn nibling (Nellie had looked up the gender neutral term for niece and nephew and to her delight discovered it was ‘nibling’, a word she now used as often as she could). He had to make sure it was right for them.

“Knock, knock.” Nellie says as she taps her knuckles on the door frame, breaking him from his thoughts. “How’s it going in here?”

“It’s…” He hesitates and looks across the scattered papers again. “Going?”

“Still narrowing down ideas?”

He nods. “Any suggestions?”

“I told you, whatever feels right to you. I trust you.”

Maybe you shouldn’t, he thinks. “Yeah, well, I hope you like whatever I come up with.”

She’s smiling. “I’ll love it. And your nibling will too! A Luke Crain original, all of their own.”

He huffs out a laugh. It’s not the first time he’s heard the phrase ‘Luke Crain original’, but it still throws him for a loop every time. The fact that he’s found any success with his art still feels unreal, like a dream he might wake up from any moment. He’s not famous by any means, but he’s found enough success to have gallery openings, sell his work, have people interested in seeing more from him.

The first few pieces he sold he was convinced people were only buying based on the Crain name, the interest in him via Steve, via the house. And he’s sure that that’s true for some people, but that doesn’t account for all of them. Especially not the ones who talk about the art itself, the merit of his style, not his childhood. It’s a good feeling, if still a little unreal.

But it also means that he really has no excuse to fuck up his nibling’s nursery mural.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” Nellie says, frowning slightly now.

He gives her a half smile. “I’ve got to make a strong showing if I’m going to secure the position of favorite uncle.” It’s easier to make a joke than talk about his ongoing anxiety issues.

“You’re going to be their favorite uncle.”

“Steve know he’s out of the running already?”

“You’re going to be their favorite,” she says with utmost confidence, “Steve knows better than to think he has a chance.”

He hopes she’s right. Not out of any ill will towards Steve, it’s just. This is Nellie’s baby. He loves his other niblings dearly, loves his whole family. But Nellie’s special. Nellie’s baby is special. He wants to be the favorite uncle, wants to be there for this baby, whatever they need, whenever. And it all starts with painting this nursery.

He crouches down in the middle of the room to grab one of his discarded sketches, maybe there’s an overlooked idea there that he can salvage and turn into something. Nellie walks over to join him and sits down. The swell of her belly is still small enough that she can get down with relative ease and she gets situated sitting cross legged on the floor beside him. She braces her hands against the small of her back and stretches with a sigh.

“Back ache?” His back had been acting up a little lately, but he’s not sure if that’s just his own bad posture or the twin thing.

She nods. “Not bad, just a little. I’m sure it’s going to get worse.”

He joins her sitting and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands. “I’m just glad your morning sickness is over.”

“ _You’re_ glad?”

“Well, not as glad as you, but still. It did make me throw up a perfectly good taco.” Which had triggered a panic that he’d gotten food poisoning from his favorite hole in the wall Mexican place, only to later realize it was Nellie who was sick and he was just suffering the ill effects from her. His favorite tacos were safe, much to his relief.

Of course, then it had turned out she wasn’t sick at all, she was pregnant, and the joy of that covered the annoyance of his lingering phantom nausea.

He had recently realized that there was a distinct possibility that the twin thing might also include phantom labor, but he was trying to not think about that too hard. Hopefully not, probably so knowing his luck, but it was a problem for a few months from now.

“We’ll see what fun new adventures come now that the morning sickness is done. Hopefully no more taco casualties.”

He laughs. “Hopefully.”

“Hey, you never told me how that date you went on went.”

He groans. He hadn’t mentioned it for a reason, he’d been trying to not think about it at all if possible. Unfortunately, it was bad enough that it was impossible to forget.

“Bad.”

“How bad?”

“ _Bad_.”

“Spill.”

“God. Okay.” He sits up a little straighter. “Dinner went well enough so we go back to my apartment and…” he trails off, letting the implication do the talking.

“Was the sex bad?”

“It was fine.”

“That means it was bad.”

Luke shrugs, conceding the point. “I wake up the next morning and he’s gone so I’m like alright either he left a note, or this is just a one time thing, no big deal. I get up, there’s no note, but he did leave his shirt.”

“Oh classic excuse to see you again move.”

“No, Nellie, what you have to understand is he wasn’t wearing layers, he was only wearing _one_ shirt.”

She opens her mouth to comment on that revelation and he holds up a finger. “No, no, it gets worse.”

“He stole one of yours?”

Luke shakes his head. “Oh no, he was shirtless. Anyway, so I get up and I’m already… y’know, he’s left my apartment shirtless, but whatever. I’m making breakfast and I get this text from him that says ‘Hey, last night was amazing. I took your boogie board, I’m going to the beach later.’”

“You have a boogie board?”

“No. I don’t. So I’m standing there trying to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about, when I remember, so, remember when Shirley and Kevin brought the kids to see all of us? And we bought all that beach shit for the kids that they couldn’t pack on the plane? The boogie board was from that. So this is a _child’s size_ boogie board that was shoved who the fuck knows where in my apartment.”

Nellie’s eyes are wide as she takes in the absurdity of the situation and she starts to giggle.

“So this man has, at _some_ point in the morning called an uber and left my apartment _shirtless_ with a _child’s_ boogie board. He is just out in the world like that!”

She’s laughing so hard she has tears streaming down her face.

“There’s more.”

“No!” Nellie manages to gasp out between peals of laughter.

“ _Yes._ So, I don’t know what to say in response, I haven’t even had breakfast yet! So I just ignore it and figure I’ll reply later. Cut to a few hours later and he texts me again, but this time he starts with ‘Hey babe,’ which, we slept together _once_ and it wasn’t all that great so we are definitely not at petname stage. Anyway, ‘Hey babe, I’ll get you back your boogie board this weekend, there’s a mime convention I want to take you to.’”

That sends her into hysterics, “Stop! Stop! I’m going to pee myself!”

He takes pity and gives her a moment to collect herself, waiting until she’s managed a few deep breaths before he continues, “So, I finally text him back that unfortunately it’s not going to work out between us and he can keep the boogie board. He texts back that it’s too bad I’m not open to pursuing more with him because he thought we had a special connection, but he thanks me for the boogie board and says he’ll cherish it in remembrance of our time together.”

“ _Christ_ , Luke.” She’s still wiping away tears of laughter.

“I know.”

“You weren’t kidding.”

“I told you. I’m doomed. I don’t know if it’s my taste in men or what, but…” He shakes his head. “I’m just going to have to live vicariously through you and your marital bliss.”

“No, you’ll find someone.”

“Nellie, the last man I slept with tried to take me to a _mime convention_. I don’t even know what that is other than… the obvious, I guess.”

She tries and fails to stifle a giggle. “Okay, well, he’s obviously not the one. But there are more guys out there. One dud shouldn’t put you off entirely.”

“One?” He asks, incredulously. “Nellie. _One?_ ”

“Well, okay, a few…”

“Do you not remember whispering guy?”

“Not as well as you do, I’m sure.” She grins. “ _Adrian… Adrian… Adrian…_ ” she says in an exaggerated whisper.

He shudders. “God!”

“Oh come on, don’t you want to be the warrior king of his—“

“Shut _up_ , I never should have told you about that.”

“One last kiss—“

“To remember me by forever, _yeah_. I was _there_.”

“I still think you didn’t give the traveling musician enough of a chance.”

“He was one of _eleven_ kids all with ‘E’ names and he wasn’t just a musician, he was part of a traveling band-slash-revivalist faith healer troupe.”

“Oh right, I forgot that part.”

“He invited me to the family compound! Which, I still don’t really get because evangelicals aren’t exactly known for being big fans of the gays. But the point stands, my dating history includes invitations to mime conventions, faith healing compounds, and amateur improv comedy rehearsals. And that’s not even the whole list!”

She tilts her head to the side, amusement still evident on her face, but she’s trying to school her expression into something a little more serious. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean they’re all like that or that you should stop trying.”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m going to start doing one of those family Christmas cards, but the picture will just be me in a ridiculous sweater by myself and they’ll say ‘Happy Holidays from Luke Crain, confirmed bachelor.’” He spreads his hands out, as if indicating how the words will appear as a banner across the card. “Besides that’s an old-timey euphemism for gay, so it works on two levels.”

Nellie nods sagely. “Art.”

He points at her and nods back. “Art.”

Nellie’s phone dings and she looks down. “Oh, Arthur’s on his way home, he wants to know if we need anything for lunch.” She hums. “I want animal fries.” She unlocks her phone and starts typing. “I’m telling him to pick up In-N-Out, you want anything?”

“Yeah, burger and fries.”

“Shake? I want a shake.”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

She looks up from her phone and gives Luke a once over. “I’m ordering you a three-by-three, you need to eat more.”

“I’m fine.”

“What have you eaten today?”

“I…” He trails off, realizing that ‘leftover cake at 4am and then coffee all day’ doesn’t exactly make a great case.

She raises her eyebrow, smug expression already in place. “Well?”

“Today was an off day.”

“Says the man who eats beereal.”

“Hey! Just because you don’t appreciate—”

She cuts him off, “No human person should put PBR and Cap’n Crunch in a bowl and eat it and that’s a fact.”

And yeah, that probably is a fact. He doesn’t really have a good comeback for that one, so he concedes. “Well… okay, you may have a point.”

“Mh-hm. So a three-by-three, cheese fries, and a chocolate shake?”

He nods.

“Do I want chocolate or strawberry?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can speak she gasps, “No! Neapolitan!”

It’s what he was going to suggest and he’s glad his instincts were on the mark, even if she figured it out before he said anything. He watches her text Arthur their orders and remembers he has some non-dating and non-nursery news he wanted to talk over with her.

“Grace has this guy she wants me to meet.”

Nellie brightens and sets her phone down.

“Not like that.”

“Oh?”

“Some guy who works in a gallery, co-owner maybe?” He shrugs. “Something like that. She wants him to see some of my work.”

“Oh! Luke, that’s great!”

“Yeah…”

“What?”

“I dunno… it’s kind of a big deal gallery. I don’t think my stuff is exactly… up to par.”

“That’s ridiculous, your work is incredible.”

He shrugs. “I guess. But I don’t think it’s really quite at that level. And I don’t want to have this guy’s expectations up and then he sees my stuff and just… hates it.”

“He won’t.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“Yeah, I guess he could have broken eyes and bad taste.”

“Nellie.” He’s laughing a little despite himself.

“So you’re going to do it, right? Show him your work?”

“Maybe.”

“You should. I have a good feeling about this.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“I have a good feeling about this,” she repeats, more seriously this time. There’s a weight and gravity to the statement. Not that she wasn’t serious before, but now he can hear it in her tone. She has a _feeling_. He believes in her feelings.

“Okay.” He’ll do it. He’s still nervous, but if Nellie has a good feeling about it, he will. He knows he’s going to be a mess of nerves come time to actually show the guy anything, but he’ll push through. Hopefully some good comes of it.

They lapse into silence and Nellie goes back to looking at her phone. He leafs through the sketches on the floor again, hoping he’ll find a thread of inspiration among them. Unfortunately, he works his way through the whole stack and no luck. He feels just as stuck as he has the whole time. He sighs and leans back again, maybe if he takes a break? Or tries to get Nellie to give him an opinion, just a nudge one way or the other, something he can use.

He looks over at Nellie, she’s preoccupied texting someone, most likely Arthur. The sun is coming through the window and shining off her hair, her skin is glowing, she’s got that little furrow in her brow right above her nose that she gets when she’s focused. And just like that it hits him.

Stars. There have to be stars.

But not a night sky, no. Something softer, lighter. A sunrise. Pale pinks and oranges and yellows with fading blues. Stars still visible, but receding as morning comes. The moon a pale shadow in the sky. And water, something with water. Not nautical, nothing kitschy or too themed, but something eluding to it. Impressionistic inspiration, not literal.

He grabs his sketchbook and flips to a blank page, starts drawing quickly, getting his ideas down while they’re fresh and flowing in his mind. Gets caught up in it, on a roll. Shapes and lines coming together, he grabs his case of oil pastels and starts working up the color scheme, adding depth to the sketch.

He’s so caught up he doesn’t notice Nellie watching him, a bright smile on her face.


End file.
